


Cold Waters

by I_will_make_you_cry



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, Alternate Ending, Borderline Drowning, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_will_make_you_cry/pseuds/I_will_make_you_cry
Summary: They defeated the Dragon.Then Will threw them both over the edge.





	Cold Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Wrath of the Lamb (3x13)

The water was cold, Will decided. Cold enough to hurt. Cold enough for normal people to compare it to being stabbed at with knives. 

But Will Graham was not normal, and he already knew that the cold was much more pleasant than the latter, even if it was quite horrible.

He clung to Hannibal as the water wrapped around them, forcing them down. His lungs were burning and his eyes stung with salt. Bubbles erupted from Will's mouth, and he gasped, swallowing water in the process. 

He felt Hannibal tighten his grip around his waist and Will buried his head against Hannibal's chest. The other man kicked up to the surface, pulling Will and himself above the water, gasping for air.

Will didn't release his grip, and continued to squeeze Hannibal while trying to refill his lungs. The pain had momentarily disappeared, but he knew it would be back after the shock had gone. 

Hannibal pulled him through the water and toward the rocks. He gripped one and steadied himself against it, then moved his arm to help Will do the same.

Even waterlogged, Will could smell the blood. His blood, Hannibal's blood, the Dragon's blood. Most of the blood had been washed away, but his and Hannibal's clothes were still stained, and blood was continuing to trickle out of the bullet hole in Hannibal's shoulder. 

Will stared back up at the sky and cliffs, realising for the first time, how lucky they had been. They'd managed to miss the rocks and avoid drowning.

He shivered. The night was chilly, and the water was making him colder; Will knew they had to get out of the ocean soon, or they'd have no chance of surviving. 

"H-Hannibal," he rasped, still refusing to let go of the other man's shirt. "'M cold... W-we need to get o-out." Will's jaw began to shiver.

Hannibal regarded him with his usually cold eyes. He said nothing, instead, let go of the rock and gripped Will's waist again. He pushed off from the rock and began to swim again, pulling Will along with him. Sharp pains shot through his brain from the bullet wound in his side. This was not going to work.

They got a few meters, then he stopped. "Can you swim?" Hannibal asked Will quietly, his throat raw from the salt.

Will nodded, a difficult gesture to distinguish between the shivering and twitches of pain that had slowly begun to return. 

Hannibal eased his grip on Will and started to kick again, gently coaxing Will forward to do the same. "Kick, Will," he urged.

Will was pulled back to reality at the sound of Hannibal's voice, and cursed himself for leaving in the first place. He moved his legs, creating splashes, but propelling them forwards all the same. He winced as he kicked, the pain from the wounds in his legs had begun to return, as the shock slowly crept away and morphed into something worse. 

Hannibal continued to kick, making sure not to loosen his grip on Will too much while using his other hand to pull on the rocks.

A good ten minutes later, sand came into view, and Will kicked harder and faster. The beach was only tiny, but there was enough space for both of them to lie out of the water. 

Hannibal pulled Will up onto the sand, then flopped onto his back, exhausted and in pain. Will watched as Hannibal's chest rose and fell unsteadily, not knowing what to do to help.

"Hannibal," Will forced out, crawling up the beach towards him, leaving a trail of blood on the sand. "Hannibal," he repeated. The hole in his side had started bleeding again, and Will had no idea what to do.

Will pulled his shirt off and wrapped it awkwardly around Hannibal's side, and tied it tightly. He shivered, still wet and now without a shirt.

Blood quickly seeped through and stained the shirt, but after a minute, the spread slowed and Will allowed himself to fall forward rest his head on Hannibal's. He slipped down, lips grazing Hannibal's cheekbone. 

Will fell backward onto his back, with one arm thrown over Hannibal's lower torso, holding his makeshift tourniquet with loose fingers.

He stared at the clear sky, but when his eyelids were too heavy to keep open, Will allowed himself to fall into a chilling state of unconsciousness. 

====

Will's head hung backward, rocking with every step.

He eased his eyes open. The sky was still dark, but he could pick out Hannibal's outline against the night. 

"Hann-" he wheezed. 

Will's throat was completely dry and his eyes stung with salt. He watched the outline of Hannibal's head move and look down at him, and it was only then that he realised Hannibal was carrying him.

"Be silent Will," he murmured, not sounding much better than Will. "You are," he broke off and faced away, coughing. "Severely dehydrated." 

"W-why... Carrying...?" Will forced dryly. "Shoulder?"

Hannibal wanted to roll his eyes at Will's disregard for his own pain but refrained. "Your shirt. It helped," he explained. "We needed to leave. Could've been seen."

Will could tell how much pain Hannibal was in from his last sentence. Hannibal _never_ skipped words when he spoke. 

He nudged Hannibal's stomach with his elbow. "Put me down."

Hannibal compiled without argument, roughly dropping Will onto the sand, then kneeled next to him. He dipped his head in apology. 

Will ran his fingers through the sand. It was much rougher than before and he found himself wondering just _how_ far Hannibal had carried him.

He pushed his arms behind him and tried to sit up, but his shoulder gave away, and he collapsed onto his back. Will lay there for a minute, sucking in deep breaths or the cold air. He reached a shaking hand up to his cheek where The Dragon had stabbed him, then pulled it away. His fingers were slick with blood, shining black in the darkness.

Will shivered. He could feel his shoulder pulsing, blood trickling out of the hole. Will’s eyes flicked over Hannibal's face, then stopped when he met Hannibal’s dark stare. He reached his shaking hand up and brushed Hannibal’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. Hannibal leaned into the touch, dismissing the stickiness of both his and Will’s blood.

Still kneeling in on the sand, Hannibal swayed a bit, then fell forward, catching himself before head-butting Will’s forehead. He rested his head on Will’s, almost mirroring what Will had done after wrapping Hannibal’s side.

Will could feel Hannibal’s weight pressing onto him more as his knees slipped and he began to lose consciousness. Hannibal’s face slid over Will’s and froze when his lips brushed the corner of Will’s mouth. Even their embrace on the cliff hadn’t been this intimate. He felt Will stiffen underneath him and was surprised when Will moved so his whole mouth was on Hannibal’s.

Will kissed him slowly and snaked his now still hand to hold Hannibal’s back. He felt Hannibal shift, then take some of his weight off him, propping himself up on his elbows, while his hands held Will’s water and blood-soaked hair. 

Will tilted his head up to capture more of Hannibal’s mouth, but also to deepen the kiss. Will licked at the seam of Hannibal’s cracked lips, trying to get them to open. Hannibal gave in, parting his lips and allowing Will’s tongue to dart inside. 

Hannibal tasted different to anyone else Will had ever kissed. His mouth was dry, but that was because of the salt. Rougher than Molly, but somehow, more gentle than Alana. Will heard a low rumble come from the back of Hannibal’s throat, so he arched his back more and pressed against Hannibal with all of his remaining strength.

When Will finally pulled away, they were both breathless. He laid back on the sand and grinned, teeth sparkling in the moonlight. “T-thank you,” Will managed out, shivering underneath Hannibal’s body.

Hannibal forced his mouth into a smile. “Will, I- This is it… I.”

Will had already arched his back and joined their mouths again. “Shhh,” he murmured. He pulled away from Hannibal for a breath. “Shhh."

===

It was early when Jack got the call. Too early.

He grumbled as he plodded into the kitchen for coffee, and when he retreated back to his bedroom to force on a suit.

When he was done, he fetched his cell and dialed. It rung for a second, then he heard the rustle of the other end of the line, as someone answered. “Hello? Agent Crawford? Jack Crawford?”

“Miss Lounds,” Jack gritted out, his mouth pursed.

He heard her giggle on the other end. “Agent Crawford, surely we’ve known each other long enough to be on a first-name basis?” she paused and waited for a reply that didn't come. Jack heard her shift, and he knew that he’d made her uncomfortable. “Anyway,” Freddie started again. “What can I do for you? It’s a little early wouldn’t you say?”

Jack cleared his throat without apology and stared down at his shoes. “I want you to come with me. We- I, I need your silver tongue and sharp eye. It’s a fair drive and a chilly morning, so for god’s sake dress appropriately. Where can I pick you up from?” He paused, waiting for an answer. Seconds went by. Something was wrong, it wasn’t like Freddie to be silent.

“Miss- Freddie?”

She laughed. It caught Jack off guard and confused him for a second. He cleared his throat again. 

“Why, why would, no, why _should_ I jump to your command, Jack Crawford? After all, you’ve threatened me with over the years? No, Agent Crawford, I will not be helping you. Will Graham is the only reason I helped last time.”

Jack stiffened and was silent, and Freddie caught onto the absence of a fiery comeback.

“Unless… Will Graham _is_ involved? Did you finally catch the ‘Great Red Dragon’?” She laughed again, then stopped when Jack still didn’t respond. “Fine. Meet me out the front of the Baltimore State Hospital in no longer than half an hour. You’ll see me.”

Then she was gone.

Jack sighed as he slid the phone back into his pocket. It was going to be a long day.

===

The drive was long, and they sat in silence, neither really wanting to converse with the other. Jack kept his eyes forward, the crisp morning light illuminating the trees and bushes that sat at the edge of the dark road.

When they arrived at the house, Jack got out of his car and was quickly trailed by Freddie.

“What are we doing _here_?”

He spared a backward glance at the redhead, and then back towards the familiar building. “We’re here on business Freddie, hold your tongue for now. We’ll need it later.”

She huffed under her breath, but Jack had already moved away from her, crossing a couple of meters to speak with a uniformed man standing by some bright yellow police tape. Freddie watched as Jack spoke with him, and smiled when he seemed to be protesting, but her smile faded when Jack turned and gestured to her, and then again for her to join him.

“Follow me,” Jack grumbled. “And don’t take any photos. It was enough effort to get permission for you to come with me.” He held the tape up and she stepped under it with a nod.

Freddie followed Jack as he walked past the house and towards the cliffs. Blood covered the floor, and a white sheet stained red covered the obvious shape of a body. “Is that…?” she trailed off, nervous about knowing the truth. 

“Francis Dolarhyde,” Jack said nodding. “The Great Red Dragon.”

Freddie looked blankly at the sheet. “Jack…? Jack… Where’s Will?” There was an urgency in her voice, and Jack noted it with a grimace. “Where’s Will?” she repeated again, louder this time.

Jack turned away from her and the house and looked out at the cliffs. “Jack!” Freddie snapped. He turned back and faced her, meeting her piercing blue eyes. He cleared his throat. “He- _they_ , fell.” Jack looked down.

“And?” she demanded, her voice thick with emotion. Jack recognised the rarity and grimaced again.

“We found them. Together.” He paused, allowing it to sink in. “I want you to write about them, Freddie.”

“Both of them?” she questioned. “Not just Hannibal? Or separately at least?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Write about both of them. Together.”

Freddie raised her eyebrows. “So it was true?”

Jack reached into his coat and pulled out some photos he’d been given by the guard. He handed them over to Freddie. She shuffled through them. “Oh. Apparently so,” she murmured. Freddie held one up. Hannibal was strewn across Will, faces side-by-side, and soaked in red. “Did the wife know?”

“Molly?” Jack shook his head. “No. She’s been contacted, and she was in shock, obviously, but she said Will had never mentioned anything like this.” He motioned to the picture. “It seems Will was good at hiding certain things. Love especially.”

Freddie hummed her agreement. “Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter found dead along with The Great Red Dragon.” She looked up at Jack, and tucked the photos into her coat. “How does that sound?”

“Fitting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to leave a comment with your thoughts, it really helps :) 
> 
> When Hannibal was talking at the end, he wasn't trying to say "Will, I love you. This is it... I love you," but something more along the lines of: "Will, It's what I meant. This is it... I wanted this for you." Which in turn is why Will was thanking him just before, and why he was silencing him at the end. Will had already realised the truth but knew they'd run out of time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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